


woven from light

by lavendori



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Gen, Snapshots, moonrise zine, tsukki throughout the years, vignettes of tsukki's vb career through the lens of different jerseys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:42:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28094832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavendori/pseuds/lavendori
Summary: Kei knows about broken wings, about fallen birds. The curious phenomenon of rising from the ashes. Akiteru’s glowing face in the crowd.Feathers molt, allowing new growth in its place.
Relationships: Tsukishima Akiteru & Tsukishima Kei
Comments: 10
Kudos: 41
Collections: Moonrise: A Tsukishima Kei Zine





	woven from light

**Author's Note:**

> here's my piece for the Moonrise Tsukishima zine!! it was an honor to be part of this project and i'm eternally grateful for the existence of tsukki. this is a little "tsukki throughout the years" told from the lens of his different jerseys.
> 
> smol art accompaniment by [suntails](https://twitter.com/suntails)!

_ “... and there’s Giba, Brazil’s ace, coming in left for a hit and— Wow! Smashed straight through the blockers! What an impressive display of power!” _

“Yes!!”

Kei glances away from the TV as Akiteru jumps up and cheers. With fists clenched and sparkling eyes, his brother radiates pure joy and delight.

“Did you see that, Kei? So cool!” Akiteru exclaims, pointing at the famous volleyball player now high fiving his teammates. He sits back down and lets out a long sigh. “Man— to go against all those tall blockers closing in on you and still being able to slam it through like—” he mimes a spike then sighs again. “Ace goals.”

His dreamy grin brings a smile to Kei’s own face. Akiteru isn’t scoring on screen, but his shining expression glows like the picture of triumph.

The camera pans away from Giba. As the commentator starts rattling off background information on an opposing player, Akiteru turns to Kei.

“So what was it you wanted to show me?”

“Oh!”

In all the excitement from the game, he’d nearly forgotten the reason he came to talk to his brother in the first place.

Standing up, Kei picks up the plastic bag at his feet and holds it behind his back. A wide grin stretches across his face.

“Guess what we got today, Niichan?”

Akiteru raises his eyebrows, leaning forward with interest. “Oh? What?”

“Jerseys!” he blurts out. Pulling the bag out from behind him, Kei sheds the plastic and holds his new uniform up: white with a large stripe of periwinkle blue down its middle, a number 7 emblazoned upon its front. “My first one ever. I’m officially a North Seal!”

“Wow, amazing!” Akiteru claps. Holding out a hand, he adds, “C’mere, let’s see you put it on.”

Kei pads forward and passes the jersey to him. Bundling the hem, Akiteru waits for Kei to stretch his arms up, then fits the new garment over Kei’s shirt.

Cupping his mouth, Akiteru takes on a deep, booming voice and announces, “And introducing… number 7, Tsukishima Kei! North Seal wing spiker and star ace!”

Kei laughs as his brother imitates the sound of applause with a silent roar.

“Niiiiiiichan,” he whines, pushing at Akiteru’s knee.

“What?” he asks, feigning innocence. “Do you not want to play wing spiker?”

“No, it’s just…”

Truthfully, Kei isn’t sure; he hasn’t really thought about it yet. But he’s seen Akiteru’s games, witnessed the feverish spark in his brother’s eyes every time he picks up the ball or spikes it. Eyes gleaming every time a star like Giba pops up on TV.

Leveling Akiteru with a pointed gaze, Kei smiles and says:

“I’m no ace like you.”

Akiteru’s eyes widen. Expression softening, he lays a hand over Kei’s hair and ruffles it.

“Come on, Kei, you haven’t started the real thing yet,” he chuckles. “I bet by the time you’re grown up, you’re going to be every bit a star ace and more.”

Kei beams. “And by the time  _ you’re  _ grown up, you’ll be on TV, like Giba!”

Akiteru grins back and flashes him a peace sign. “That’s the dream!”

They turn back to the television screen just in time to see Giba score. The crowd goes wild, and so do they.

But as bright of a star ace as Giba is, when Kei tears his eyes away from the screen and fixes his gaze on his brother’s glowing expression, he remains certain that Akiteru shines even brighter.

* * *

The clear plastic crinkles in his hands as Kei picks the jacket up from the box. Already, his annoying new teammate — the quick, overexcited one — has opened his and thrown it on. His shrill cry of delight that follows grates on Kei’s ears.

“Not bad huh, Tsukki?” Yamaguchi murmurs beside him while the other boys continue to make a huge fuss. He lifts his own jacket out of the plastic bag and stares at it in awe. “It’s all official now.”

Kei gives a small grunt of acknowledgement. The collective enthusiasm around him threatens to encroach on his space, their shouts of mirth pushing him to want to retreat further inside himself.

It shouldn’t be a big deal. It’s just a jacket. This is just a club.

Dropping his gaze down, he glowers at the folded-up apparel in his hands. The plastic sheen ripples beneath the glare of gymnasium lights as his fingers tighten their grip. Against the black fabric, the stark white name  _ “Karasuno High School Volleyball Club” _ leaps out at him. All of a sudden, Kei is nine years old again and staring at the same words on his brother’s back as he unties his shoes in the genkan. Even as he fires off question after question in his excitement to learn more about what the powerhouse volleyball experience is like, his brother never turns around to face him. Nothing but the sight of  _ “Karasuno High School Volleyball Club”  _ spread across those slouching shoulders for days and weeks, three years on end.

“Hey!”

Kei flinches as the voice jolts him out of the memory.

Sugawara-san’s finger appears out of nowhere and pokes him in the shoulder. “You put yours on too!”

Kei turns to him and quickly rearranges his face into a polite frown.

“Um.” He hadn’t expected the moment to be shared by everyone else in the gym. “No thanks, I’d rather wait until later—”

“What, you shy or somethin’?!” Tanaka-san interjects. “What’s wrong with wearing it now? C’mon! Put it on!”

“Yeah! Put it on!!”

Kei grimaces. Yamaguchi pulls his jacket on next to him while the other boys continue griping for him to do the same. On top of the difficulty of his decision to come here, if this is the kind of riffraff he’s going to have put up with at Karasuno, maybe this was a bad idea after all.

Scowling, he peels back the cover and pulls the jacket out.

_ “OOOOOOOH!!” _

Kei has barely finished pulling the second sleeve up his arm when Sugawara-san and Tanaka-san fawn loudly over them.

Standing in a row, clad in sleek black jackets: the newest members of the Karasuno crows.

“Lookin’ good! Lookin’ good!” their older teammates call out as Hinata models for them. Gripping the zipper edges, he opens his jacket wide and poses. Kei rolls his eyes.

“Hey guys,” Daichi-san says. Everyone turns. With a smile he continues.

“As the captain of the Karasuno Volleyball Team, let me be the first to say: welcome aboard!”

The freak duo exchange excited glances. Yamaguchi’s eyes widen in wonder.

“Thank you, sir!!” they chorus around Kei.

Kei looks down at his hands where his sleeves hug his wrists. Although the fabric is softer than expected, his skin still itches.

* * *

He had never assumed he’d be a starter.

He had never expected to stand where his brother never did. Young and idealistic, neither of them were prepared for the rug to be swept from under their feet.

_ This only happened because Karasuno isn’t a powerhouse anymore,  _ he reminds himself _. _ The flight of fortune weighs heavy on his bones. Stepping onto the court in a red practice jersey, he resolves to mask the burden of “luck” behind derisive smirks.

It does nothing to assuage the bitter taste in his mouth.

*

The gravity of stuffing Ushijima at least once — just once — threatens to crush his lungs.

Kei would be suffocating, were it not for the burning heat expanding inside his own chest. It’s not the first time he’s wearing jersey 11 but when Kei steps out under Sendai’s gymnasium lights, he feels a new fire rekindling in his soul.

And he knows. He knows about broken wings, about fallen birds. The curious phenomenon of rising from the ashes. Akiteru’s glowing face in the crowd.

Feathers molt, allowing new growth in its place.

Kei has never been an optimist. Up in the stands, people place bets for Karasuno’s loss. A focused determination flares up in him like never before.

Just this once, he’ll forget the odds.

*

_ “Hey Tsukki! How’s volleyball been for you lately?” _

_ “Thanks to everyone’s help, once in a while — a very great while…” _

Kei smiles.

_ “It’s fun.” _

*

He won’t know until a few rotations later that this day will be the last match he wears this number.

For now, Kamomedai’s Little Giant jumps up at the net. Kei squints at the focus in his eyes, searching for a sign.

Hoshiumi swings. Kei lifts his arm. The ball flies over their heads.

He lands on the ground with a triumphant smirk on his face. Game. Set.

Match.

_ This is just a point. _

The board reads 25-22. As they walk past the net on their way out, Kei glances up into the stands.

In the midst of the cheering crowd, one audience member stands out. Beneath the blinding lights, he meets Akiteru’s eyes.

_ I’m no ace like you. _

Kei is no ace at all, but Akiteru gazes at him like he is more. Turning his face, Kei holds two fingers up.

Up above, his brother returns the gesture.

Along his spine, bones are healing: wings opening towards the light.

* * *

Kei’s entire hand still stings from the last ball that slammed his fingers before touching the floor on the wrong side of the court.

They file out of Tokyo’s vast gymnasium for the last time, battered and exhausted.

Outside the gym doors, Yamaguchi and Hinata pull him, Kageyama, and Yachi in for a hug. For the first time, Kei doesn’t resist.

The roaring of the crowd still rings in his ears — not for them, but he doesn’t care. Together, the five of them have been through so much. Here with his teammates arms around his back, Kei’s mind runs through every moment, every drop of blood and sweat they’ve shed, that have led them here: their first three-on-three, the freak duo’s unreasonable fervor, matched only in intensity by Kei’s resentful distaste. The first loss to Seijoh. Practice in third gym. Kuroo’s provocations and Bokuto’s challenge. The subsequent realization that he doesn’t have to blame himself over his brother’s pain anymore. All the penalty drills and bruised fingers, Ukai’s tips and the aching burn in his quads at the end of a five-set match. Sinews stretching and strengthening over repetition and hard work. Every decision and calculation over the last three years that have carried them now unto their final game. To the end of an era.

_ This is just a club. _

Back in the changing room, Kei twiddles with the hem of his jersey.

Third place isn’t so bad. They’d played their best and advanced further than they ever have before. It was never a guarantee they’d even make it this far. To be able to say they’ve done everything they could do to stand their court and play their best is sufficient grounds to be proud of. And yet, instead of relief or pride, there is hollowness, an itch he can’t scratch.

The opposite of being whole.

By some act of mercy, he doesn’t replay the last rally in his head. He doesn’t criticize himself for every mistake or bad play. Kei has been there, done that, too many times to count. He understands now that no single action on the court exists in isolation or stands on its own. In the end, it’s not the loss itself that leaves him feeling insatiated.

The realization dawns on him as more than a half-formed thought. He is surprised by the ordinarity of it rather than the revelation itself. Perhaps the refusal to give up until he’s satisfied has been inside him all along.

_ He doesn’t want it to end. _

Resolve hardening, he pulls the navy Karasuno jersey off over his head for the last time. 

* * *

The fresh aroma of curry greets Kei the moment he opens his front door.

Slipping his shoes off in the gekkan, he announces his usual  _ “I’m home” _ to his mother before stepping over the threshold. He’s about to head straight up the stairs to drop his duffel bag on his bed when he registers the faint noise of a volleyball game drifting in from the living room.

There’s only one thing that could mean.

Turning away from the stairwell, he walks through the hallway and past the kitchen where his mother is still cooking, coming to a stop beside their family TV.

“You’re home,” he observes.

Akiteru is lounging on the couch engrossed in a match, a can of light beer in his hand. His face lights up when he spots Kei.

“Kei!” he says, holding his beer up in a celebratory toast before returning his attention to the screen. “Were you at practice?”

“Yeah.” A pause. “When did you get here?”

“A few hours ago. Had to drop something off this afternoon in the area for work so I figured I’d stop by for dinner.”

“Oh. Good.”

“Don’t just stand there,” Akiteru laughs when Kei doesn’t say anything more. “I’m watching a game Mom recorded over the weekend. Wanna join me?”

“Um.”

Kei fiddles with the zipper on his duffel bag. He had just received the big news today, but he hadn’t planned on telling anybody just yet, let alone tonight. Now that his brother is here though, maybe he ought to mention it…

Akiteru glances up at him. “You look like you want to tell me something.”

Kei frowns. He supposes the choice has already been made for him.

“Um. Yeah. At practice today…” he trails off as a loud cheer from the TV catches his attention. His eyes shift over to the screen. Beside the channel logo in the corner where the current score sits, one of the team names makes his heart stop.

Akiteru is watching Sendai Frog’s most recent game.

“W-what—?” Kei sputters. “Why are y—? Who  _ told _ you?”

He hasn’t been in any matches so far, and although his family knows he’s been playing volleyball, nobody really knows which team Kei has signed with (aside from Yamaguchi, who probably told Yachi and Hinata, unfortunately. But even  _ he _ would know not to tell Akiteru).

Akiteru frowns. “Hm? Told me what?”

“I— Aren’t you—?” Kei looks at Akiteru, then at the TV, then back at Akiteru again. “Mom didn't say anything?”

Akiteru raises an eyebrow. “Not anything out of the ordinary, no. Why?”

He doesn't know. Kei can still be the first to tell him.

Taking a deep breath, he unzips his duffel bag. Upon the first crinkling sound of a plastic bag, Akiteru gasps and sets his beer down on the coffee table.

“You’re finally going to tell me what team you’ve signed with!” he declares.

Kei dips his head, hiding a small smile. Pulling the bag out, he unwraps it and lets the clear plastic drop.

_ “No,”  _ Akiteru breathes, jumping to his feet at once. “No way.”

Beneath the light of their living room, the fabric sports the same verdant tone as the vivid hues on screen. Mouth falling open, Akiteru steps forward with an awed gleam in his eyes.

“Kei — are you serious? You’re officially playing for Sendai Frogs?”

“I’m holding the jersey, aren’t I?” Kei asks, trying but failing to sound exasperated. As much as he loathes overreactions, somewhere inside of Kei is the same nine year old boy who glowed with excitement whenever Akiteru doted on him.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Akiteru demands snappishly. “Put it on!”

“What? No…” Kei mumbles, lowering his jersey. “Not now.”

“Yes, now!” Akiteru laughs. Swiping the apparel out from Kei’s grasp, he rolls up the hem and stuffs the jersey on over his head, dragging it down over his arms.

“Ugh. Why.”

“It looks amazing,” Akiteru notes, standing back to admire the effect.

Scowling, Kei wriggles around in the jersey to fit his arms through the armholes.

“Are you done?” he deadpans.

“Nope.”

Akiteru’s voice cracks on his last word. Kei looks up to see his worst fears confirmed: his brother’s eyes, glossy with tears.

“Don’t—” Kei starts in a strained voice. “Stop. It’s not a big deal.”

“I can’t believe this,” Akiteru chokes. “Who would’ve thought I’d get to see my own baby brother playing volleyball on TV alongside the rest of the pros?”

“Okay just— get a grip— _ hnnh! _ ”

All air gets squeezed out of his lungs as Akiteru wraps him in a bear-tight hug.

_ “Wrong grip,” _ he croaks, causing Akiteru to squeeze him even harder.

“I’m so proud of you, Kei.”

At these words, Kei relaxes.

_ I’m no ace like you. _

Akiteru may not be playing regularly anymore but the person he was to Kei when he was 15 — his personal cheerleader, an idealist dreaming of becoming a world class ace, his very own star — is locked in time, forever constant. Although things haven’t turned out the way they expected, Akiteru never stopped being a driving force in Kei’s life. Funny to think that a little over ten years ago, they both stood here in this same room, dreaming about Akiteru going pro. If Kei were to ask his 9-year-old self whether he’d want to follow those same footsteps, he would’ve never believed it could happen. And yet…

“I wouldn’t be here without you, Niichan,” he mutters.

Kei hears a sniffle, feels his brother’s fingers dig further into his jersey. With a small smile, he lifts a hand to pat Akiteru on the back, once. He allows him a couple minutes of silence before trying to pull away.

“You can let go now.”

Akiteru laughs.

“Never!”

**Author's Note:**

> catch me on twitter ([@lavendori](https://twitter.com/lavendori)) and/or [tumblr](https://lavendori.tumblr.com) for more tsukki lovin'
> 
> as mentioned above, smol art accompaniment was by [suntails](https://twitter.com/suntails)! :)


End file.
